Listen to the owls
by Sassy.Nox
Summary: In which Romano goes for a walk in the woods after a party at Germany's and very bad things happen. Depressing. Waring -selfharm, Depressed!Romano-
1. Chapter 1

His painfully numb feet sloshed through the icy slush and mud that layered the path on which he was walking. He glanced down, his face un-readable, and stared at his abused appendages. How long had he been walking? He lost count of the hours.

What was time to someone who was obsolete? He had nothing to look forward to, so why watch the clock tick slowly, slowly, slowly towards the inevitable? He ran his thumb absently over his wrist, freshly cut, and still pouring the sticky, red substance that carried oxygen to the rest of his body. Somehow, he felt he had wronged the innocent cells whom were only doing their job, but then again, he never cared much about himself anyway, and they were part of him, were they not? So he let them fall from his arm to their microscopic deaths as he continued his walk.

Sometime during his hysteric ponderings he fell to his knees again, and pulled the gleaming metal from the pouch around his neck. He toyed with it for a few painful moments before he began to search for an unmarked patch of milky skin for him to paint. He settled on his hips, not his favorite place to cut, as he couldn't easily remind himself of the pain without looking perverted, but seeing how he was already drenched in blood, he felt that he could break the skin anywhere he pleased.

He was vaguely aware of the dull, pulsing pain his chest, but the agony he could feel coursing through his limbs every time he moved over-ruled the internal pain by a long shot. He paused, razor mid-cut, and listened to the owls singing. He always loved owls, pity these belonged to that German bastard. He was probably in his house taking advantage of the youngest Vargas brother as we speak. Lovino backtracked.

'No' He reprimanded himself. 'It's just you Lovino. No one else is here.' He thought, harshly scolding himself for such a silly mistake.

Fine. He was probably taking advantage of the younger Vargas brother as Lovino sat here being the pathetic bastard he was. He finished the line he had begun and tucked the stained metal away where it belonged. He forced his frozen body to move forward and continue his trek through the German wilderness as a Spaniard noticed Lovino's absence for the first time that night.

Romano continued his walk until his body gave out from blood loss and the cold. He sighed happily, maybe now he could escape the torture he felt every day. In the last attempt to communicate his pain to the world, he pulled his blade from the pouch on his neck and dragged it across he ground, writing in the loopy cursive Grandpa Rome had taught him long ago, while Feliciano was painting and Lovino was signing paperwork.

Spain had light heartedly said his farewells and set off in search of his someday boyfriend, but that was four hours ago, before he happened across the first pool of dried blood, circled around an imprint in the dirt were someone had fallen to their knees and bled. He had followed the path for what seemed like days, until he heard the overpowering call of owls and could smell the metallic tang of blood in the wind. His eyes glued themselves to the ground as he shuffled, following the trail of blood to the broken boy, trembling, surrounded by words craved into the earth. Spain looked, helplessly, at the scarlet that covered the child he'd raised, the boy he'd loved, and the man he'd crushed. All he could do was fall to his knees as well and pull Lovino's frigid body close, as the boy's once pink dress shirt fluttered in the breeze, the buttons disappeared to unknown adventures. The Spaniard rocked slightly whispering until Lovino's cracked voice shushed him.

"Spain, bastard, listen, the owls are singing to us. They're amazing. Too bad they belong to the potato bastard eh?" He smiled weakly and his eyes flittered closed peacefully, and Spain doubled over in pain because somehow, he knew Lovino wouldn't wake up.

~oOo~

The casket was amazing. The solid white wood bore hand painted words in painstakingly beautiful calligraphy. Word had it that Spain painted it himself, copying Lovino's handwriting perfectly, so the world could see why he hurt so badly. So his message wouldn't be forgotten.

The mortician had argued that there was no way to cover Lovino's cuts, that it should be a closed service, but the mortician also bore a broken face and a death threat, and Lovino's skin looked as smooth and creamy as it had before the accident.

Spain paid for it all, the coffin, the cemetery spot, the flowers, everything. Feliciano didn't have to do a thing but mourn over his lost twin and cry into Germany's shirt.

Spain walked in with the family when the service started, and before he stepped to the podium to speak he leaned down and kissed Romano's forehead, barely whispering words that brought the youngest brother to his knees.

'Good night Lovi. May the owls sing to you forever, and may they not be German.'

~oOo~

_This is a teeny bit more morbid than I normally write, but I felt like writing a tear jerker. Sue me. I'm so sorry I killed you Roma, and that Spain didn't have one of those mushy confession sessions before you croaked . I'll let you imagine what he wrote in the dirt, sense I just didn't feel like being creative. If anyone reviews with a really juicy idea, I must write a second chapter, otherwise this is a one-shot. Enough ranting, review already. =3 _


	2. Chapter 2

_I've put up with it for too long._

_I just want it to all go away,_

_The pain the loneliness_

_The knowledge that everyone loves my younger brother over me is pulling me apart._

_I doubt anyone will care that I'm gone_

_They all prefer Feli anyway_

_They'll be happy I took myself out, so they don't have to worry._

_The foulmouthed older brother with an awful attitude, he's gone now, don't worry._

_Spain you bastard, I wish I could have told you._

_How much I love you before I do this, but you were so busy_

_I'll always remember your laugh, your smile_

_The way you call me your fucking tomato_

_Well Spain I hope you know I wish I could've been your tomato, but you always ignored me over the perverted bastards, or the potato sucker. So I've decided to get rid of myself._

_But I still love you_

_Goodbye everyone_

_Goodbye pain_

_Goodbye Razor blade_

_Goodbye Feli_

_Goodbye Lovino Vargas. _

_**Thanks to **__**Wolfen Artist of Hetalia **__** for inspiring this, they reviewed a juicy piece of idea, and I couldn't help but use it *_* Sorry xDD Btw, this is what was written in the dirt, and/or on Lovi's casket. **_


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